


Have A Cup of Cheer

by Huge_actman



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 11:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17120246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huge_actman/pseuds/Huge_actman
Summary: Christmas time rolls around, but Phineas just isn't feeling himself.





	Have A Cup of Cheer

P.T. drags himself out of bed, ignoring the aches in his joints, ignoring the tightness in the back of his neck, the pressure in his sinuses, the constant exhaustion that ravages his body and begs him to just stay in bed all day. The world is still here, another day to conquer, another battle against what he hates to admit is his slowly failing body.  
He stares at his reflection in the mirror. His pale face looks grey in the early morning light, his lips are colorless, his eyes are dull. He looks exactly how he feels. Faded. Soulless.  
Phin splashes icy water on his face, but decides to skip shaving this morning. He’s already about to run late, having slept through his alarm yet again. Phillip had had to poke him awake, and now he has only fifteen minutes to prepare for the day ahead of him.  
“Phin, breakfast!” Phillip calls from the kitchen where he’s been up for the past half hour fixing breakfast.  
Phin pastes a smile on his face and calls back to his husband, his voice filled with false cheer, “I’ll be right there, love.”  
He dries off with a hand towel and takes one last look at his haggard face in the mirror. Wrinkles that were not there a mere three months ago now crease his forehead, laugh lines criss cross his cheeks, and crows feet crowd for attention around his eyes.  
Phineas closes his eyes and sighs, and when he opens, the crowd pleasing smile is plastered to his face, all cheer and good nature, though he feels none of his previous energy. The drive and vigor that used to keep him constantly in motion like a busy whirlwind have faded along with the color in his lips. And his eyes are dull. When did they get like that?  
He grins at himself and tries to muster up a booming laugh, but perhaps it’s too early, because his vocal cords only allow a halfhearted chuckle. He straightens up and begins to dress.  
Another day to face, and face it he will. No matter what it takes.

 

 

The troupe is practicing for a special Christmas show, and everyone is buzzing with the excitement. Normally, Phineas would love this sort of thing, and would take on the adrenaline of everyone else, becoming the most buzzy of the group, darting around and doing everything at once.  
He leaves the troupe with Phillip and goes to his office to go over some paperwork, though he knows they need his help with the act more than he needs to do early taxes. 

 

“Phineas?” Phillip’s voice cuts into P.T.’s hazy almost-sleep and he jerks his head up from his desk, hurriedly running his fingers through his thinning hair. Lines appear across Phillip’s forehead as he registers the scene in front of him.  
“Ah, Phillip. What can I do for you, love?” Phineas begins busily shuffling papers on his desk, his nervous fingers anxious to cover up the embarrassing fact that he’d dozed off over his paperwork and it was hardly ten in the morning.  
Phillip enters and shuts the door behind him. “Yikes, it’s hot in here, why are you still wearing your coat?” He drops his own coat on a chair and circles the desk to kiss his husband on the forehead. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”  
“You’re scaring me, Phil,” Phineas chuckles, pushing himself back in his chair and lazily resting his feet on his desk. A perfectly executed portrayal ease.  
The other man leans against the desk and fixes P.T. with a serious gaze. Phin shifts back into a normal position and furrows his eyebrows. “Okay?”  
“I think you should go to the doctor. I’m worried about you, you seem so tired all the time.” Phillip leans forward and tries to take one of Phin’s hands, but Phin is up and on the other side of the room, clearly agitated.  
“I- I really don't I think that's necessary Phillip. Yes, perhaps I've been moving a bit slowly the past few days-”  
“Weeks,” Phil interjects.”  
“Fine, weeks. But, I am quite certain it's simply the chill of the winter months getting to me. There's nothing to worry about, really. Though, I do appreciate your concern, darling.”  
Philip stands and crosses to where his husband is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed stubbornly. “If there's nothing to worry about, then why not visit the doctor with me? All he'll do is confirm what you've just told me, and I can sleep easily once again.”  
“Fine,” Phin grumbles, “have it your way.”  
“Thank you, Phineas, for indulging me.” Philip takes his husband's hand and squeezes it gently. 

 

After Philip leaves, Phin sinks back down into his chair and slowly begins unbuttoning his jacket and then his shirt. Bruises crisscross his body in strange places, places he doesn't even remember bumping. They're on his shoulder from falling on it during rehearsal with the troupe, they are on his knees from hitting tables, there's even some on his ribs, though he doesn't know why.  
Old injuries are acting up- the leg he broke while working on the railroad is aching again, as is his wrist where he sprained it last year.  
He might never admit it to Phillip or anyone else, but perhaps this was not just the chill of the winter months getting to him. All the days he had spent on the railroad as a boy, every cold, cold night he had spent on the streets had not gotten to him quite like this “winter chill” was.  
He ached to his very bones. Rousing himself from sleep every morning was a challenging task, it clung to his pores and pulled him down. Anyone with eyes could see how he was fading, turning grey. Phineas felt depleted, a shadow of his former self. Perhaps the doctor could fix him. Perhaps he would be glad for whatever knowledge he might gain.  
But then again, perhaps not. 

 

The girls run shrieking through the tent, tripping the others in a mad game of tag triggered by the recently hung mistletoe. Caroline waves a toy baton at Helen and yells “I’m going to kiss you! You can’t get away from me!”  
Helen flies to Lettie and hides behind her skirts, a devilish look in her eye as she watches Caroline’s face cloud with confusion. “Hide me Lettie, hide me!” Lettie obliges, spreading her skirts helpfully.  
The other girl tiptoes about, poking racks of clothing and feed sacks with her stick. Helen clamps a hand over her mouth, stifling her giggles, and shuffles behind Lettie as the woman carefully turns to keep her front facing Caroline.  
Hands grab Helen from behind and whirl her up into the air and she shrieks with laughter. “Phil, put me down!”  
Caroline races over and, seemingly forgetting her quest to either kiss her sister or beat her with a stick, and jumps Phillip from the back.  
“Ha, gotcha!” Phillip crows and spins the girls around. She giggles and clings to him, wrapping both legs and arms around his waist. “Don’t you two want to help me and your daddy put up the tree?”  
“Yes! Can we string the popcorn?” Helen wriggles down and grabs Lettie’s hand, “Lettie, do you want to help with the popcorn?”  
Caroline wraps her arms around Phillip’s neck, “Are we going to put candles on it? Mama has plenty of candles at home.”  
He chuckles, “I think we might skip the candles this year. One circus fire is enough, and those candles are a bit dangerous.”

 

Phineas and Phil stumble in with a towering tree and the oddities scramble to support it. Once the tree is righted everyone stands back to admire it. The thing is massive, almost reaching the roof of the tent. It’s brought the strong sweet scent of cedar in, as well as several snow drifts that are busily melting on the ground.  
Phillip slips up to Phineas’s side and wraps his arms around the other man’s waist, laying his head on Phin’s chest. Phin’s heartbeat is fast and light against Phillip’s ear and he pulls back to look at his husband’s face. Phineas is pale except for two spots of color in his cheeks and his eyes have a peculiar shine to them.  
“Phineas, are you feeling alright?” Phillip stretches up and presses his cheek to Phin’s, trying to subtly take his temperature. Phin looks blearily down at Phillip, and it takes a moment for his eyes to slide into focus.  
“Mmm? Oh...yes. I’m fine, darling.” Phin presses his dry lips lightly to Phillip’s forehead. They are warmer than Phillip remembers. 

 

The others begin to decorate the tree, and soon there is popcorn and bits of cedar needles spread all over, even stuck in hair and clothing. Someone brings out an old gramaphone and soon the staticky sounds of old christmas carols are twining themselves around and through the festivities. The tree slowly accumulates decor: handmade crafts contributed by the girls, strands of popcorn and vibrant cranberries, stale christmas cookies attached to bits of string that no one knows what to do with. It is truly a masterpiece.  
“I’ve got cider!” Charity’s merry voice calls out, and there are cheers from several in the group. There is a mad rush for the bearer of the cider, met with the rebuke, “No one gets cider if you storm me all at once! Caroline, Helen, you two can help me pass it out. The rest of you- be patient.” Her words are stern, but Charity is grinning.  
W.D. hands Anne a steaming cup of cider with an impish grin struggling for control of his features. “For you, my lovely sister.”  
Anne narrows her eyes but accepts the cup cautiously. “What’s the catch?”  
“No catch. Come on, Anne, can’t I have some holiday spirit without you accusing me of crime? Drink the damn cider, I’m trying to be a good brother.” W.D. flashes his white teeth and takes a sip of his own cider.  
Anne sighs and rolls her eyes, “Thank you, W.D., you're too kind.” She lifts the cup to her lips and takes a long drink, rolling the warm liquid around in her mouth as she savors it. Then her eyes fly open, a look of rage in them, and she spits the cider out, purposely soaking her brother, who shakes with laughter. “Damn it, you know I hate cinnamon!”  
She hands her cup to a chuckling Fedor and stalks off. “Have some christmas spirit, you killjoy! It was just a little fun!” W.D. calls after her, still laughing.  
“You know who else derives joy from other people’s suffering? Sadists!” Anne salutes W.D. with her middle finger as she leaves to beg a fresh, non tainted cup of cider off Charity. 

 

“Have you seen Phineas anywhere, Cherry?” Phillip whispers in her ear. She scans the crowd, eyes narrowed, forehead creased with concern.  
“I don’t know. It’s not like him to miss the party.” She pours a mug of cider and offers it to Phillip but he waves it away. She wraps her hands around it and inhales the steam the rises, sighing happily.  
“Have you...noticed anything different? About Phin I mean. He seems a bit- a bit off.”  
Charity nods as Phillip speaks, and hastily swallows. “I have. He seems a bit rundown. But I know how good at hiding things he is, so I think you would probably know better than the rest of us if he was going down hill. You’re his husband, after all.”  
“I’ve convinced him to visit the doctor. The appointment is tomorrow, actually. He swears there’s nothing wrong but…”  
Charity squeezes Phillips hand. “Thank you for taking care of him, Phil.”  
Phillip squeezes back. “I’m going to go look for him. If he comes back in here send someone to find me. The cider is excellent, by the way.” 

 

 

“Phin?” Phillip knocks on the door to Phin’s office but there is no response. He carefully pushes it open and sticks his head inside. It’s dark and freezing, not a place Phineas, who loved warmth and light, would willingly spend time in.  
Phillip almost misses the faint sound of rattling breath. It barely reaches his ears as he is backing out of the room, but it sends a wave of fear through his body, weakening his knees and quickening his heartbeat.  
Behind the desk Phineas is curled up on the floor, his body quivering with the cold.  
“Shit.” Phillip breathes. He rips off his coat and throws it over the prone man. “Phineas. Phineas, hey. Wake up, love.” He takes Phin’s head in his lap and strokes the sweat soaked curls back from his eyes. Phineas has a fever, and a high one at that. He’s shivering, yet drenched in sweat.  
Phineas’s eyes flutter at Phillip’s touch, and he stares blearily up at Phillip’s concerned face. “Phil…” He sighs, “So hot in here.”  
Phillip yanks the coat back off Phin, then presses his cool hands to Phineas’ cheeks. “Phin, why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”  
Phineas either does not hear or doesn’t care to answer, because he plays absently with the hem of Phillip’s coat and hums under his breath.  
“Phin, I need to go get help. We need to get you home. Will you be alright for a few minutes?”  
Phineas tightens his hold on Phillip. “Wait.” He struggles into an upright position, swaying slightly as he does so. Phil scoots closer so that Phin can lean on his chest.  
“Phineas?”  
“I went to the doctor a few days ago. I- I wanted to go alone.” Phineas is surprisingly urgent in his manner of speaking, despite the fact that he is unable to sit up without assistance.  
Phillip strokes Phin’s hair comfortingly, “And?”  
“The diagnosis was...unfavorable.” Phineas is silent for several moments. Long enough for Phillip to wonder if he had fallen to sleep. Finally he speaks again. “I’m sick.”  
“Obviously.”  
“No, different than this. Worse. ” Phineas turns to face Phillip. “The doctor said I have cancer of the blood.”  
The blood rushes to Phillip’s ears. Sick. Cancer sick. His husband.  
The cider sours in Phillip’s stomach. He thinks he might vomit. “Why- why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  
Phineas’s voice is a hoarse whisper, thick with emotion. “I didn’t want to spoil the christmas spirit.”  
“Oh, Phineas.”


End file.
